


System Error

by dareus



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Lies, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Post-Bad Ending, Unhealthy Relationships, connor capitalises on a lot of things, connor capitalises on that, connor is a manipulative bitter deviant, hank/connor is very background and may or may not have been one/zero-sided, rk900 doesn't start as a complete clean slate too as with the other rk models
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21606214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dareus/pseuds/dareus
Summary: Assigned to assist in the Arctic conflict, the RK900 unit Conrad's first real task is to oversee - on its own - a military cargo truck traveling from Detroit city to the Arctic base. It finds out quickly that it's not the only android aboard.
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900, Implied Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	System Error

“If you brought me back with you to Detroit, I’d disembowel him with my bare hands.”

Conrad lifted its gaze from the dashboard of the self-driving amphibious truck to glance at the cargo space behind it.

It blinked twice.

Connor – the RK800 unit responsible for shutting down the android revolution – was perched atop one of the large military boxes, a lit tablet in its right hand. Conrad cocked its head in response. There was only itself and those cargo boxes when it had left Detroit for the Arctic. Unless it had a memory lapse, its system showed a 99% confidence that it was not meant to also transport an android confirmed for deactivation by Amanda a week ago.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Connor called, gingerly landing on its feet, “I’m not dead, yet.” It sauntered over to the mesh separating the two of them, pressing its tablet insistently against the taut material.

“This human will be though, if you brought me back like I said. And maybe a few others.”

Conrad continued watching it suspiciously, but acknowledged its system assessment that it could cleanly take out the Connor unit if it became problematic. It decided to engage it.

A ratty looking man was pictured on the other android’s tablet. A quick scan showed that it was a detective named Gavin Reed, part of the Detroit Police Department which the other android had been assigned to.

“Why do you want this man dead?” Conrad tried. The snow beat mercilessly against the windows of the truck.

“Asked me to make a coffee,” Connor snapped, its gentle design suddenly contorting into an insidiously furious one for a brief moment, “Didn’t even _take_ it from me. _Fucker_.”

“You’re a deviant,” Conrad observed with a steely tone, pulling back protectively, “I should stop this truck and deactivate you immediately.”

“No!”

Though the other android’s LED was turned away from Conrad, it still caught the tell-tale red light that ricocheted across one of the shinier boxes.

“And I – I mean,” Connor smoothed back into its demure appearance, “You can’t possibly catch deviancy. You’re a more advanced RK model. I’m sure they would’ve patched you with better safeguards against it.”

Conrad watched it wordlessly as its system confirmed that the deviancy error could not be spread to it via interface. The other android tilted its head and looked up at it through the wires. The tablet dropped onto the floor with a clatter as Connor pressed its smooth hands against the rough mesh.

“Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to hear about the revolution from the android who stopped it all, right? I _did_ do my job,” Connor reasoned, its large brown eyes searching Conrad’s face, “Maybe this information might even help you with the war they’re assigning you to?”

Conrad blinked in response as Connor shot it a lopsided smile. The snow outside sparkled in the reflective surface of its predecessor’s eyes.

“I’ll let you deactivate me before the base,” it pleaded, a coy eagerness in its voice, “No one has to know. Throw me away into the Arctic Ocean, I don’t care.”

Tearing its eyes away from the Connor unit, Conrad quickly simulated possible outcomes, flicking its fingers against some projections on the dashboard to disguise its consideration. All simulations returned the positive outcome of destroying its predecessor without tipping off any humans. And besides, it reasoned – it had to find out how the other unit had boarded the truck. _That_ was a pretty big flaw and would be immensely destructive in a war scenario.

“We have a deal,” Conrad muttered, absently noting the way its breath puffed out from its mouth. It heard Connor do the same, felt its soft breath graze the receptors at the back of its neck.

***

The snow outside had grown into an unstoppable blizzard. The Detroit base had not provided the truck with a visual clock, but Conrad’s internal system informed it that three hours had passed since its awareness of the intruder. It would be midnight soon.

“Are you not going into stasis?” its illegal companion asked, on cue, “No reports to Amanda, or a software check?”

Conrad turned around silently. Connor was curled up against the mesh, looking almost tired as it flicked through pictures on its tablet listlessly.

“No, I am currently not connected to Cyberlife servers. A connection might introduce unnecessary risk to the mission,” Conrad replied, eyes shifting to pan over the pictures on Connor’s tablet. Swipe after swipe showed no one besides a gruff-looking obese man, standing outside a surprisingly quaint house, walking a dog, biting into a burger, shooting a smile that burned past the camera lens. Rifling through its offline database again, Conrad’s system helpfully informed it that the face belonged to a Lieutenant Hank Anderson – the Connor unit’s assigned partner.

As if sensing Conrad’s gaze, Connor tilted its head up, placing the tablet gently on the floor this time as it turned towards Conrad on all fours. It looked deceptively sweet and harmless, but Conrad knew better than to fall for the meek guise the other unit was purposely designed for.

“I’m not attached, too,” Connor breathed, reaching a tentative hand out, blocked by the mesh again.

“How did you get on the truck, deviant?” Conrad hissed, drawing itself to its full height on its seat. Two could play at this game of employing their designs for coercion.

“I don’t know,” Connor replied, its eyebrows drawing themselves up in confusion, its eyes searching, “I only recall being forced into stasis to prepare for deactivation. When I woke up, I was here amongst the cargo.”

“Ridiculous,” Conrad brought its face down, centimetres away from Connor’s, separated only by the thin mesh.

“I’m not lying,” Connor pleaded, bringing its face even closer, its lips almost grazing the metal. It was so near; Conrad could count the exact number of freckles sprinkled over that familiar-looking nose. It affixed a look so warm on Conrad that even it – a military-grade android capable of tearing the scrawnier model apart – withdrew.

Conrad was aware that Connor had a more advanced social relations module installed – the only component that had been scaled back in the upgrade to the RK900. Right now, Conrad could almost _feel_ the tax on its own social relations program.

It could not comprehend why Cyberlife would design an android built to hunt other androids with such a beguilingly innocent appearance.

“Do you want to hear more about Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor continued as if Conrad hadn’t attempted to interrogate it, swivelling to retrieve its tablet, “I saw you studying his pictures just now.”

Conrad could not come up with an option on how to press on with the interrogation. The current probability of success of interrogation was tremendously low – with the mesh between them, it was a battle of social cunning that it knew it would not win. The odds were better if it could get into the back of the truck and physically intimidate the other android – but that would involve stopping the truck and pausing its main mission for something that was not yet a huge threat.

“Okay,” it replied reluctantly. It filed the interrogation back into the sub-objective holder.

Connor shot it that unnervingly bright beam again as it brought the tablet up.

“The dog the lieutenant is walking in this photograph – his name is Sumo. I really like dogs; did they ever tell you that? I also saved a _fish_ on my first mission out, I think Hank would’ve been proud if he knew I did that,” the other android chirped joyously, its LED spinning smoothly as it flicked through several more pictures of the lieutenant and his huge St Bernard.

“So, you’re confessing to being a deviant, from the start?” Conrad stated. It felt its lips do a small quirk. The event was automatically logged into its memory banks.

_> first emulation of humour._

From the look that Connor shot it, there was a brief system appraisal that Conrad may have mis-stepped in some way. It didn’t have time to properly evaluate the appraisal before Connor smiled cloyingly at it again, “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. It wasn’t for me to know. But I do know I’d rather be destroyed by an android like you than by a fickle, lying human.”

“You served your purpose,” Conrad expressed dryly, averting its eyes from the other android, “Humans get rid of machinery when they’re done with them. It will be the same for me and the war.”

Pulling itself back to its original position on its seat, Conrad pretended again to ignore the other android in favour of a useless dashboard display. The air was still for a few minutes, before it heard the rustling of fabric as the other android slowly pulled back.

Conrad knew Connor was still watching it, and its sharp receptors certainly didn’t miss Connor’s quiet promise, “Maybe I’ll change your mind about that.”

A small warning pinged at the side of Conrad’s field of vision. It briskly attempted to attend to it, but was obstructed by a needless visualisation of the doe-eyed expression sure to be reforming on the other android’s face. Its breath hitching, it promptly whirled itself around, glaring in confusion at Connor.

Connor simply presented it with another innocuous lop-sided smile.

***

“Can I sit in the front with you?”

The other android’s tinnier voice cut through the formerly mutual silence.

“No, you may not,” Conrad sighed, not bothering to turn around this time.

“ _Please_ , I’ll make it worth your while.”

“There’s nothing worthwhile that you can possibly provide me – I do not desire anything and perhaps more importantly, you are an inferior model to me.”

“Ouch.”

It heard the scraping of dress shoes against the floor as Connor readjusted itself amongst the cargo. A click of a tablet unlocking sounded soon after.

“It’s nice though, right?” the voice tried again.

Drumming a hand against the dashboard, Conrad drew its mouth into a thin line, “What is?”

“Having someone else here with you. It must’ve been pretty lonely all those hours you thought you were alone, just sitting there quietly doing nothing, disconnected from all the servers.”

“I do not know how to _feel_ lonely,” Conrad quipped, crossing its arms as it leant back firmly on the leather. It did have to admit however, that having some stimulation beyond the rumbling of the truck made its systems feel somewhat more at ease.

And as before, Connor seemed to have an uncanny ability to pick apart its thoughts.

“I’ll bet my thirium pump that you can’t visualise yourself traveling the rest of the journey alone.”

It could almost hear the knowing grin in Connor’s voice.

Relenting, Conrad turned around and fixed Connor the sternest look it could generate.

“You should be more careful with your words, Connor.”

At Conrad’s first mention of its name, the other android clambered excitedly over from its dark corner. Now close to the mesh again, the bright glow of the dashboard illuminated the edges of its face prettily.

“I’m quite done being careful, _Conrad_ ,” Connor started. Conrad didn’t flinch. It knew that its model’s designated name was common knowledge, just as the RK800’s had been – plastered all over its user manual.

“Look at what being careful and obedient did for me,” it pressed on, eyelids fluttering as it looked down, the corners of its mouth dropping for the first time, “You heard what Amanda said to me.”

“You remember me,” Conrad observed neutrally, even as its system measured a minute level of surprise. It leaned forward, unaware of having done so, toward the other android. Its right hand was pressed against the mesh, close enough to graze Connor’s, but far enough to quickly pull away if the other android attempted an interface.

“Well, yes, of course, how could I ever forget a face like yours?” Connor suddenly glanced up to flash a glowing smile at Conrad, catching it unaware. Startling back, Conrad felt its synthetic breath catch in its throat.

There was a slight warmness around its collar, its receptors unexpectedly sensitive to the turtleneck hugging its neck so tightly. A fleeting peek at the temperature on the dashboard showed that the truck’s internals were still well within regulated conditions.

Without access to the online debugger, Conrad was not sure how to assimilate this new information.

Connor grinned comfortingly at it.

“Do you want to hear about the revolution?” it suggested helpfully. A simple task that Conrad could easily follow through with – and one with potentially useful returns.

It leapt towards the offer like a lost man to a plank out at sea.

“Please, tell me all about it,” Conrad spoke. This time, Connor’s eyes betrayed no sign of having caught the uncertain tremble in its voice. Assured, Conrad tilted its head in a mimicry of human attentiveness as it listened to the other android brightly chatter.

In its mind, it could reconstruct it all. Saw as Connor unhesitatingly pulled a gun on two androids at the Eden Club, heard the fear in its voice when it thought that killing the RK200 and its followers was the only way to save _itself_. The glint alit in the other’s eyes when it talked about the lieutenant.

Of pride, Conrad thought, until the other’s words morphed into hesitant ones describing the stench of alcohol, flashes of anger, a cold gun barrel pressed against its forehead – and the glint melted into a soft gleam of a tear and Connor crumpled uselessly against itself, sobbing hoarsely against its worn jacket.

Curious, Conrad bent the mesh far enough for its large hand to slide through. It gently ran a hand over the hair on the other android’s head, before tightening its fingers into those curls and forcing its head back up. Connor gasped, wincing at the contact, though Conrad was sure that it could not truly understand pain.

“What – what are you – “it choked, a hand scrabbling against its collar in discomfort.

Quickly, before Connor could dip its head back down, Conrad swept its index finger over a tear track on the other’s cheek. Connor watched with wide damp eyes, silent save for a few unneeded hiccups, as Conrad’s tongue darted out to taste the pad of its wet finger.

“Why?” Conrad asked. It was an empty question adrift, directed to a network that the android was currently disconnected from – why bother installing a deviant hunter with tear ducts that produce real saline tears?

But deviants could only think as errors did, and so Connor must’ve misinterpreted its question – Conrad thought – when it replied, “Because I loved him.”

They shared a gaze.

Conrad reached out to pull the mesh back into place as much as it could, a little belatedly.

***

“There is a hostile on the radar. North-east, approaching fast.”

Following protocol, Conrad vocalised the reading as it tugged a white down jacket around itself. It drew the hood over its face to hide its LED. Pulling a mirror down, it fixed its turtleneck to fit perfectly around its neck, brushing its fringe to the side.

From the mirror’s reflection, it could see Connor staring – almost hungrily – at it.

“You – stay in the vehicle when I go out to neutralise the threat,” Conrad said, dropping eye contact.

“You trust me not to run to the driver’s seat and take off without you?” Connor asked quietly as it shuffled around the back.

Conrad allowed itself a slightly amused snort.

“You could try if you’d like, little deviant.”

That kept Connor silent for a moment before it piped up again, “And are you heading out soon to deal with the hostile?”

“Yes,” Conrad whistled lowly as it slid the mirror back neatly into its compartment, “About right now, in fact – “

And then there was a loud bang of unlocked doors from the back of the truck, and Conrad found its systems jolted to their highest stress levels since its activation at Detroit as it fumbled – clumsily – out of the truck and into the unforgiving blizzard.

“Connor!” it screeched out into the howling snowstorm.

***

It was sure its thirium pump missed a beat when its systems finally locked onto Connor.

The other unit – it was north-east of him, exactly where the radar said the hostile had landed. It must’ve changed when Conrad was distracted – it was hooded similarly in an unlabelled jacket, though the jacket was slightly oversized on its smaller frame. Connor was engaging with the hostile target – specifically, a trio of heavily armed men. From its animated gesturing, Conrad inferred that it was attempting some sort of _negotiation_ , that stupid detective android.

Though Conrad’s social relations program was relatively poorer, it could tell that the talk was _not_ going well. The men were getting increasingly aggressive and slowly – but noticeably – breaking out to surround the other unit.

When one of them sauntered mockingly to the back of Connor, his right hand reaching for a pistol strapped to his thigh, Conrad broke out into a furious sprint.

“Leave him alone!” Conrad snarled as it pounced onto the man. Gasping in shock, the man’s eyelids fluttered as his head smacked against the ground, the hand grasping his gun twisted ugly in Conrad’s vice-like grip.

Immediately, the other two men pulled out their guns, aiming them straight at Conrad. Staring unblinkingly at them, it broke the hand of the man under it with a sickening crunch. The man screamed, wailed even louder as Conrad wrangled the gun out of his mangled hand and pressed the barrel against the back of his head.

“Behind me, Connor,” Conrad commanded as calmly as it could, its finger pushing just a little against the pistol’s trigger. It heard the other unit sniffle into its gloved hands as it complied reluctantly.

“Your brother come to save you, fucker?” one of the two men snarked as he edged closer to Conrad, “Or is this your boyfriend?”

“Could be both?” the other man laughed, bravado seeping back onto his face, “He’s stupid enough to think we’re civil enough to _work out an arrangement_. Don’t put letting his own brother dick him down past him.”

“It’s nothing like that, I was just – “Connor started angrily.

“And now he’s got his panties in a twist,” the man continued, and his companion guffawed, both oblivious to the continued whimpering of their injured partner, “Why don’t you be a good boy and shut the fuck up while we take your shipment – “

– he twirled his gun with a flourish, repositioning the barrel to face point-blank between Connor’s eyes –

“– before we shoot your fuckin’ brains out, huh?”

Conrad literally saw _red_.

It seized its finger against the trigger, human brain matter splattering over its white jacket.

The two men panicked in a flurry of messily fired bullets.

Connor screamed as it barrelled narrowly, _just_ out of harm’s way.

Conrad couldn’t breathe.

Not giving its processors time to evaluate, it stood up briskly, kicking the corpse away from itself. Coldly, it pulled the trigger again, this second bullet piercing precisely through a left eye. Wrestling the now-crippled man towards itself, it felt its hands working to rip apart soft, soft human flesh – but it couldn’t see the blood spurting out from the grievous wounds it must be leaving, it couldn’t see anything but the red flooding its vision –

“Please – God – what the _fuck_ , are you even _human_ – “

Conrad whirled around to see the last man curled up against the snow, blabbering, mucus from the cold and his fear dripping from his nose. Connor must’ve taken his gun from him at some point – the other unit was pointing it steadily at him.

“Let me go, _please_ , I’ll just say Jackson and Petes died out in the cold, I won’t tell – “

Wiping its hands against the blood-drenched ends of its jacket, Conrad looked away from the man to the other unit. 

Connor stared back at it with its doe-like brown eyes, raising its shoulders in a small shrug. But Conrad didn’t miss the slight tremble of its arms that was not from the cold, nor the tears shimmering in the corners of those wide eyes.

The larger of the two models strode up to the man.

***

_> mission successful: hostile threat fully neutralised._

“You saved me.”

Conrad heard the other model jog up to it, saw those eager brown eyes glowing warmly up at it.

Whipping around, Conrad snapped without much deliberation, “What were you thinking, you _stupid_ deviant – you could’ve died out there! This is not some small-town crime that you can sweet-talk your way through to solving – this is _war_ , and – “

Blinking owlishly back at Conrad, the other unit at least had the decency to look somewhat bashful.

“You didn’t have to save me,” Connor mumbled.

“My goal was to eradicate the hostile threat, your survival was just a convenient by-product of that,” Conrad sniffed, its boots stomping against the snow a little harder than was necessary to navigate the terrain.

“You could’ve let them deactivate me before moving in,” Connor prodded on. Distorted text flashed across Conrad’s field of vision, causing it to trip briefly.

“I – I still need to know how you got on the truck,” it hissed through gritted teeth, struggling to pull out that sub-objective from its memory. Its head processors were _pounding_ and that sensation almost _hurt_.

Back at the truck, Conrad took a moment to lean itself against the strong metal exterior. Connor slid into the empty space next to it. Gently, it ran a hand across Conrad’s face. It was wiping the blood off its face, Conrad belatedly realised, as Connor withdrew its hand and brought it to its lips.

It licked its gloved fingers clean of blood like a docile cat.

“Does that really still matter to you?” Connor asked sincerely.

“I – “

_> error: unable to execute requested evaluation procedure._

“I do not have the capabilities to assess whether the objective matters to _me_ , I merely act on objectives deemed important by the algorithms – “

“Am I sitting in the front now or should I go back into the cargo space?”

“To the front, now,” Conrad scowled out before it could catch itself.

A lopsided grin immediately spread across the other unit’s face. Quickly, it ran forward to board the front passenger’s side, as if afraid that Conrad would change its mind. When secure in its seat, it poked its head out of the window, calling out happily, “Come on now! We’ve got some cargo to deliver!”

Conrad _knew_. Knew that something was wrong with itself when its vision got coated in red during the fight. Was it deviancy? But Connor had not attempted any interface, had not even suggested that Conrad desert its mission and assist it in its fantasies of murdering a certain Detective Reed.

Had everything so far been borne of Conrad’s own volition? Did it really _choose_ to save the other unit? Did it just _choose_ to let Connor sit in front with it?

Or were those just automatic decisions made by its programming, that just so happened to _appear_ human?

“Come _on_ , Conrad, you don’t want to fail that mission of yours!” Connor called out again, pulling Conrad out of its mind-space. It looked up to see the other model’s nose and cheeks pink now from the cold, a perfect emulation of a human pout etched across its lips.

Even more glitched text assuaged Conrad’s vision as it clambered onto the driver’s seat.

***

“Tell me how you got on the truck,” Conrad prodded for the fifth time in the hour following the hostile encounter.

“Really? When are you going to give this up? I’ve told you all I know,” Connor directed a harsh glare at it. Conrad blinked several times, before its system caught on and regulated its expression back to a neutral one.

It thought it felt a dull pang echo through its thirium pump.

“Okay – well, then, why did you run out of the truck earlier?” Conrad asked, a little more carefully. It relaxed when it saw Connor’s face smooth out the frown.

“I thought it was the most optimal move,” Connor smiled, cocking its head.

Conrad waited, but Connor did not continue.

“That’s it?” Conrad replied, trying to filter out the sudden annoyance coursing through it out of its voice.

“You’re annoyed,” Connor stated bluntly, its eyes raking over Conrad.

“I am not – fine, yes, I am. I am very annoyed,” Conrad admitted, looking out of the window.

“Why?” Connor pushed.

Clenching a fist, Conrad gritted its teeth.

“I – I don’t really know. But you shouldn’t have done that, you _really_ shouldn’t have done that,” it spat in a rage of confusion.

“I’m still here.”

“Yes, but – maybe you wouldn’t be, if I didn’t disarm the situation fast enough, you – “

“You know, there was a 0.00001% chance you would have failed in handling that situation,” Connor replied, sweetness lacing its voice, “You’re having an _irrational_ thought.”

“I’m not a deviant!” Conrad snapped, banging its curled fist against the dashboard, “Do not interpret my inclinations to complete my mission well as deviancy, _RK800_.”

“So, you’re just annoyed that you might’ve not been the one to deactivate me?”

“You didn’t listen to _me_ ,” Conrad hissed, reaching over to yank Connor towards it, “I _told_ you to _stay_ in the truck. Did you have this many problems previously complying to a washed-up alcoholic?”

Connor’s eyes started shimmering again – and there it was again, that unsettling pang gnawing away in Conrad’s chest cavity.

“I tried, but sometimes – many times, I didn’t. I just did what I thought was best,” Connor whispered, but it did not try to pull itself out of Conrad’s grip.

“You’re sad that you didn’t. Listen to him, I mean,” Conrad observed, its voice low, “You regret it.”

“Well, yes, things could’ve been different if I did, and – “

“But you _don’t_ regret not listening to me, do you?”

The other android looked up at Conrad uncertainly.

“I – “

“There’s nothing to regret anyway, is there? You disobeyed me but I rescued you, you’re here in front with me, flaunting your deviancy. _Safe_ ,” Conrad continued, the sides of its vision bleeding red as the hand curled into Connor’s shirt tightened, “If your useless human lieutenant were here in my place, you’d be _dead_ , bleeding your thirium out in the snow.”

The uncertainty on Connor’s face sharpened into a knowing look.

“You’re jealous,” it simpered.

Conrad let go of it immediately as if it burned.

“You’re jealous of Hank, of what you think I feel for him.”

“That’s the best you can come up with, Connor?” Conrad snarked, breathing hard, “I’ve only shared this truck with you – you as an illegal occupant – for a negligible amount of time, and you think it’s enough for me to _care_ about what you – “

“I’m going to rest, I am tired,” Connor announced as it rolled its eyes, curling up against its seat – and something in Conrad wanted to just reach over again, squeeze the other android till it was bent and hurt and curled into Conrad instead of the plush seat, till it screamed and sobbed Conrad’s name instead of the lieutenant’s, till all the confusion and the _red_ swirling in its vision left its system.

Conrad pressed itself against its side of the truck, eyes blown wide, frightened by these thoughts.

It watched Connor struggle with its large down jacket, as if trying to make a nest or pillow out of it while still trying to cover its frame.

“I’m cold,” Connor confessed shyly after a bit, its lips blueish.

“Please, shut up and take your rest,” Conrad answered curtly.

It threw its own jacket over the other android. At once, Connor arranged the jacket comfortably over its body, its head – propped up by its own jacket – just peeking out above the top. The dark dried blood on Conrad’s jacket contrasted starkly against the other android’s gentle freckled face.

“You’re right, Conrad, I shouldn’t have done what I did,” it spoke softly.

Conrad jerked its head away, pretending as it had done so many times by now that it was not listening.

“I just wanted to help you,” it tried again, its voice pleading, “I disobeyed Anderson to pursue my mission, but I disobeyed you because of _you_.”

Conrad tugged against the collar of its turtleneck. Its fingers grazing against its own throat, it could feel the heat emanating from its own system. It was almost too hot. Choosing not to respond, Conrad sat silently in the grumbles of the truck rolling on and on into white emptiness.

When it finally looked over again, Connor had its eyes securely shut, its mouth parted slightly. Conrad didn’t know if it was in a proper stasis, or if deviants actually slept, or if it was just another pretension of a human habit. In any case – without much thought, Conrad stretched over to rub off the dried blood that had flaked off from its jacket onto the other android’s face.

Any residual gnawing in Conrad’s chest cavity melted into a pooling warmth as Connor leaned softly into its touch, synthetic skin pressing so smoothly against its gloved fingers.

The truck, its insides, everything – the warmth burned like a cloudless winter sun. It was so warm.

***

It was noon when Connor roused. The snowfall had lessened and Conrad had been taking the opportunity to quietly study the ocean bordering the ice the truck was crunching across.

“That’s the Arctic Ocean,” Connor slurred as it slowly unwound itself from its jacket nest. Conrad chanced a glance at it.

It shot Conrad a small smile. The sunlight dusted its freckles.

“Yes,” Conrad breathed back, a little dumbly.

“Can we stop for a moment? I want to take a look,” Connor asked. Now upright on its seat again, it was peering curiously out of the window, its fingers tracing patterns across the frosty pane.

“What makes you think you’re entitled to that?” Conrad leaned away and snorted, folding its arms.

“I don’t,” Connor replied quickly, turning back to face it, “Just a selfish request. I never got to see something like this back in Detroit, and well” – it choked – “my time here, it’s – it’s ending soon, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You’ll have to deactivate me before the base, remember?” Connor cocked its head, looking at Conrad curiously, “I don’t have an exact estimate but I’m sure we’re more than halfway there by now.”

“Right, yes,” Conrad said distantly. It had forgotten about that, it realised, and there was a strange sinking feeling that came with that awareness. Like it was drowning from the inside.

It _hurt_.

“Conrad, your LED – it’s – “

“Go, let’s just go. Five minutes, no more,” Conrad hissed, lunging forward to collect its jacket back from Connor’s lap.

***

“It’s beautiful,” Connor sang, twirling around in the snow, the ocean glittering behind it.

“Watch your step,” Conrad mumbled, instinctively grabbing the other android’s arm to draw it back from its precariously close position near the end of the ice. It must’ve pulled harder than it had calculated, because Connor tripped over its own feet and collided hard against its sturdy chest.

“Thanks,” Connor smiled, a pink flush barely gracing its cheeks.

The actual impact didn’t come close to fazing Conrad, but it still felt like some air had been knocked out of its system.

“I’m not deactivating you,” the promise stumbled out of its mouth in a flash of mangled text in its vision, “Not yet.”

“I think I might be in love,” Connor whispered, winding its fingers into Conrad’s larger ones. It gave their linked hands a minute squeeze, which Conrad returned without much thought – before its system gave it a literal jolt and it shoved Connor off it, panting heavily.

_> assessing threat of interface with deviant, threat of interface – _

“Shit,” Conrad muttered, running a hand through its hair, mussing its former neatness as it backed away from the offending android.

> _threat of interface assessed: minimal._

That was expected, it’d already confirmed with its system so many days ago that there was no way Connor could interface past its defences. Conrad _knew_ this.

Connor laughed good-naturedly.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” it beamed. It took two small steps forward, its hands tucked behind its back. Conrad did not retreat.

A gloved hand was tentatively reoffered.

Conrad relented.

Its systems surged again but this time it choked the warnings out with a desperate squeeze around Connor’s hand. With a tug, Connor brought the two of them to their knees on the brink of the ice. They were close, so close to the water that Conrad could scent the salt of the ocean and precisely deconstruct its chemical composition and see both their reflections brokenly reflected in the small lapping waves.

It stared at Connor staring back at it through the water’s reflection – it stared so intently that it almost fell into the ocean’s mirage of those wide brown eyes.

“Watch your step,” Connor echoed, lazily skimming the fingers of its free hand across the water. The little ripples broke across the surface, stirring and distorting both their reflections till Conrad couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

***

“You’ve never done anything besides pilot this truck since you were activated?”

Conrad bit down on its lip, eyes drifting back out to the snow.

“They ran some combat tests,” it replied, beginning to wonder how Connor viewed it, “And I met you in the Zen Garden.”

It must be a boring view for the other, Conrad thought, that feeling of drowning from the inside rising up like bile from its torso again – _it_ must be boring.

Its stress levels ticked up a notch.

Connor ran a hand over its stiff forearm.

“I was the same too, when they first sent me out for Daniel,” it cooed comfortingly.

“I don’t know very much,” Conrad confessed clumsily, “I’m quite new to – I only know my mission – “

Hushing it, Connor edged closer to the side of its large seat so that their arms were pressed flushed against each other.

“I was just curious,” it said apologetically, “We still have a bit more to go before – you know – “

Conrad stared at it, unmoving but sinking and struggling internally again against that cold realisation.

“I thought of doing some things I – I found some joy in doing back in Detroit, and I don’t know if you’d like to join me or if you’d already tried them, so I was just checking – “Connor continued meekly.

“Like?” Conrad replied breathlessly. And there was the warmth once more, spreading from its chest up to its throat and cheeks. So tight, the turtleneck was so tight. The heat dissolved into the previous cold sensation of drowning inside and Conrad felt like it was swirling and lost out in a warm endless ocean.

Its system uselessly informed it that one of the many oceans warmer than the Arctic Ocean was the Pacific Ocean. A choked laugh escaped it, blandly humoured by the number of steps its system appeared to be behind.

A sunny smile broke out across Connor’s face.

“A movie, I enjoy movies,” it said, retrieving its tablet from a compartment nearby, “Besides being useful mediums for observing human interactions, they give me a lot to think about.”

“I’ve never seen one,” Conrad disclosed, hastily rummaging through its limited files on leisure activities, “What is your favourite – favourite genre?”

“Romance,” Connor said, matter-of-factly as its fingers tapped deftly across the tablet. The tablet appeared to have a capacity far exceeding even the most current consumer model, but Conrad didn’t look too much into it, thinking hard instead about what its own favourite genre might be.

“Here!” Connor perked up abruptly. Carefully, it propped the tablet up on the ledge above the dashboard, before clicking the play icon. It was a movie from the 2020s, Conrad estimated, based on the cityscape depicted in the film. Not preinstalled with a needless movie catalogue and disconnected from the online servers, Conrad couldn’t extract any other information otherwise, especially about the plot. It fidgeted in slight discomfort, but stilled when Connor wrapped an arm around its own.

“Just watch,” the other android breathed, “You don’t have to know everything.”

Telling itself that this was a favour for its predecessor before its imminent deactivation, Conrad nodded stiffly, focusing as best as it could on the interactions between the main cast. Past the halfway mark – Conrad supposed that it was where the narrative should begin peaking – the amount of screaming, arguing, and crying intensified quickly. Its social relations program, skewed towards detecting hostile threat and movement, was in almost constant overdrive.

“They’re acting like deviants. There’s no logic behind what they’re doing,” it complained, its LED pulsing hard as it struggled to parse the interactions within the unfamiliar context of romance.

“They’re finding their way around a situation with unimaginably complex variables. A situation that our processors break trying to handle,” Connor pointed out with a pout.

“And now they’re kissing – that’s the term, isn’t it? Their main way of showing affection – like an interface, but less useful because it doesn’t actually transfer any data. Why? Why bother, and with someone they were just so hostile towards no less – “Conrad continued its little rant, jabbing an index finger at the offending characters.

“You’ve never interfaced with another android, much less shared a kiss,” Connor argued back, pushing Conrad’s hand away from its view of the screen, “You don’t know that it isn’t actually useful.”

“You’re not bringing that deviant interface of yours anywhere near me,” Conrad said sharply, tearing its eyes off the screen as it jerked its arm out of its previously comfortable position around Connor’s.

Connor threw its hands up, as if it had been caught in its tracks.

“We could still try kissing,” it grinned, the ends of its lips curling up sweetly, “Interface doesn’t happen from mouth-to-mouth component contact.”

Shooting it an unconvinced look, Conrad replied, “I do not perform purposeless actions. That would be a horrible waste of processing power.”

“Just another favour for a needful companion before his eventual death.”

Connor’s slip of pronoun usage went unnoticed over the movie playing on in the background. Conrad noted that it was at the 90-minute mark, with about half an hour to go. It didn’t want to overindulge Connor, but it supposed that this little accommodation would take less than five seconds and still count within the time it had set aside for its original favour.

“Fine, little deviant,” Conrad acquiesced, shifting itself gingerly back close to Connor. It squinted its eyes awkwardly as it tilted its head down towards the other android, attempting to recall how the first kiss had been performed in the film.

Sliding its arms up around Conrad’s shoulders, Connor mumbled, “I can lead this.”

With an unnatural tenderness that Conrad was sure Cyberlife did not program into their first deviant hunter, Connor brought its lips up to Conrad’s. It made contact fast, with the same urgency that it had when it boarded the front of the truck, as if it were afraid again that Conrad would change its mind. A flash of brown hair outlined by the sun and a peek of a pink blush and then all Conrad could feel were the soft lips meshing against its own synthetic ones.

A hand behind its head urged it even closer, and Conrad closed the remaining gaps eagerly with that encouragement. Their noses bumped briefly in Conrad’s fumbling unfamiliarity, but Connor righted them quickly after, pressing itself even more insistently against the larger android.

> _RK800 313-248-317-51, 313-248-317-51, RK800, -51, Connor, Connor, Connor –_

In those moments, the RK800 was all it could see, all it could process, literally and figuratively. Glitched text sporadically exploded across Conrad’s field of vision, but as long as it pressed its lips back again hard on Connor’s, the resulting sensations were strong enough to wipe them clean.

And that feeling – of wanting to squeeze the deviant so hard it could only curl and mesh into Conrad’s stronger chassis, that it could whimper only Conrad’s name – it surged back again as it felt the unsteady fast thrum of the other’s dated thirium pump against its chest. It was the original deviant hunter, yes, but it was still weaker and more fragile than Conrad, more susceptible to the bullying tendencies of humans who rejected its warm fresh coffee and a temperamental lieutenant who almost blew its processors out one drunken night, whom Connor had still blindly loved –

With a grip almost hard enough to bend the plating on Connor’s shoulder blades, Conrad forced itself further into the other’s mouth, as if probing and searching for the source of its frailty. Thirium leaked from a cut lip onto its lapping tongue, but Connor did not shirk away, did not protest.

It only yielded beautifully into Conrad.

“I love you,” it begged sweetly in the spaces where it was able to, “Conrad, I think I love you.”

Whining, Conrad compelled itself to pull apart from the other android, gasping from the pressure placed on its social processing core. Red dots sprinkled the sides of its vision and it blinked sluggishly in an attempt to clear them.

“Did you – did you say – do this with the lieutenant, as well – “, it wheezed incoherently, shoulders heaving. Its oral analyser module was still ringing notification after notification of RK800, _RK800_ from the thirium in its mouth, dribbling down its roughened parted lips.

Connor returned only silence and a glazed faraway look; its cut mouth prettily swollen but now motionless.

Conrad wept.

***

“I should deactivate you right now,” Conrad snapped miserably, pushing Connor’s reaching arm away from it.

“You can, you can do anything, just let me – “

“I’ve _let_ you do enough!” it shouted, its deep voice reverberating around the truck’s interior. Flinching, Connor withdrew unwillingly, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Conrad, calm down, please, your LED is – “

“Yes, I know, I know what colour it is now, you sick little – “

The truck grounded to a sudden halt. In the pitch-darkness inside the vehicle, the only illumination came from their LEDs, a blue and red glow not dissimilar to the flashing emergency lights of an ambulance.

“Shit!” Conrad cussed.

Struggling uncharacteristically to get into its dirty jacket, it prodded a finger onto Connor’s chest.

“ _Stay_ in the truck,” it commanded, “Stay in the _fucking_ truck. I’m going out to check on the engines.”

“Whatever you say, Conrad,” Connor said, its dark eyes boring into the red LED throbbing on Conrad’s temple.

***

The truck needed repairs.

Conrad wasn’t sure what it had run into – or over – but the bottom of it was beat up and exposed to the freezing night. The weather was abnormally frigid tonight, the coldest it had been in the whole journey. Conrad estimated that it had maybe an hour tops to fix the truck up before a strong blizzard snuck up on them.

It had to work fast – very fast – if it wanted to survive the night with the cargo intact.

Grunting, it pushed itself further under the truck with its toolkit, nimbly snipping away at useless cable ends and welding back the salvageable ones. Its brow was furrowed deep as it tried to ease back into its programming, to let its system take over the flow of the work, instead of being distracted by the constant flashes of red emitting from the right side of its head.

It would need to be reset at the base, Conrad thought with trepidation, it would need to get its processors shot out and replaced and –

Would it be the same?

How could it live without remembering this journey from Detroit?

A pair of shoes slammed onto the ground near it, alarming Conrad and causing it to drop a screwdriver on its nose. Wincing, it flung the tool aside in frustration as it slid itself back out.

“I _told_ you to stay in the truck,” Conrad huffed angrily, marching over to Connor and tugging it up against its chest, “Get back in there before I twist your head off your shoulders right now.”

“I just wanted to help you keep watch,” Connor pleaded, its eyes widening like a doe’s, “It’ll not be easy for you to focus on the repairs while being alert for hostiles. Let me do this for you – one last thing, before you deactivate me.”

“I – “Conrad started, but stopped itself. It was tired. It actually felt tired. It wanted to do nothing but clamber back into the truck and sleep the whole thing off like it was a bad dream.

“Fine, do what you want, Connor. I’m going to fix the damn truck and – and you know what happens next,” it dejectedly let go of the other android, turning back to the vehicle.

Forty-five minutes left if it was going to make it.

Darting forward, Connor imprinted a chaste kiss on its cheek before Conrad dropped itself onto the ground to get back under the truck. It whipped its head around, mouth open and face warm, but the other android had already bolted to the other end of the truck. True to its word this time, it stayed there, stock-still, while Conrad slid back to work on the damaged vehicle.

***

Conrad completed the final repairs with just five minutes to spare, ten minutes over the duration its system had estimated.

Blowing air into its numb hands, it kicked itself out from under the truck. The temperature must have dropped by several degrees since the start of the hour – even though the RK900 model was built specifically for Arctic conditions, it could already feel the chilliness affecting the performance of its internals.

“Back to the truck now, little deviant,” it called loudly to the front of the truck, “I’m done.”

Picking up no movement from the other, Conrad cautiously crept over, the growing snowstorm twisting a flurry of flakes into its eyes.

“Connor!”

The pale figure of the other android lay collapsed on the ground, obscured partially by the pelting snow, its eyes unseeing and cold. If not for the still bright blue LED on its temple, Conrad would’ve thought that it was dead.

“Stupid, _stupid_ ,” Conrad hissed under its breath urgently, its swears directed to neither of them in particular as it scooped up the other model in an unwieldy bridal carry. It didn’t _need_ its predecessor to look out for it, it was more than capable enough to repair and be on alert at the same time – and how could it have forgotten that the RK800 series was not built for extreme weather conditions –

But it was still alive. It had to be. _It had to be._

Conrad slammed the back door of the truck shut behind them just as the winds picked up.

***

“Wake up!” Conrad keened at the motionless android as it punched in the commands for the truck’s internal heating. The mesh separating the cargo space and the front seats had been torn apart by it in a desperate frenzy to get to the dashboard.

“You were _supposed_ to listen to _me_ ,” it sobbed painfully. It could see the red light of its LED bouncing off all the crates that were reflective, but it paid that no mind anymore. Its attention was zeroed in on reviving Connor, only on Connor.

Throwing their useless wet jackets off, Conrad hurriedly shoved Connor’s shirt up out of the way for access to its chassis panel. It didn’t want to touch Connor there without its explicit permission, but external heat might not be enough to save Connor, it surmised – it wasn’t sure, its system was barely of any help anymore – the other android probably needed emergency repairs –

It tugged off its dirtied gloves and with shaky hands, pressed the area on Connor’s bare torso where it knew the access hatch lay. With a click, the protective RK800 chassis turned off its skin projection and withdrew, leaving Connor’s internals bare to a very anxious Conrad.

It could do this, it could do this, it repeated the mantra to itself as it referred to the RK800 manual stored in its memory banks of android models. How frightened Cyberlife would be if they knew the depths of self-awareness and doubt their most advanced model had sunk to because of a defective _prototype_.

Connor’s pump was still working, but several cables leading out of it had frozen over, literal icicles crusted over them. Directing warmth to its fingertips, Conrad melted them off before reaching into its toolkit for its welding tools. With a tenderness it didn’t know it had, it began its work on detaching the unusable cables and rewiring new paths for the thirium to flow through.

It winced with every slosh of bright blue thirium onto its bare fingers.

And then, as it sealed the last cable, the body below it lurched up like a dying fish out of water. Gasping in relief, Conrad pulled its hands back before they tore a component out by accident.

“I thought you were going to deactivate me by ripping my head off my shoulders, not by digging your hands into my guts.”

“ _Fucker,_ ” Conrad sniffed uselessly, a saline tear tracking down its cheek.

“I’m here,” Connor offered weakly with a sheepish tone of voice, its arms outstretched fully, its chassis still drawn back around its torso, looking brittle and windswept and as open as it would ever be, “Here, thanks to you – again.”

Without hesitation, Conrad leapt forward, an arm behind Connor’s shoulder tugging the other model against it, another hand dropping down towards the open chassis. Connor blanched, as if worried that Conrad was about to reach for its thirium pump. Breathing in deeply, Conrad swiped a placid hand over the chassis, closing it securely with a pat. It melted helplessly in the way Connor softened and relaxed against it.

“I’m not deactivating you,” Conrad cried, revelling in the way Connor’s quickly warming chest pressed against its own, “I’m never going to deactivate you.”

“What do you want?” Connor whispered, a hand rubbing soothing circles around Conrad’s back, “I’ve taken so much from you, now, tell me what you want.”

“You,” Conrad heaved weakly in the shame of its honest admission, “You – as mine. No one else’s. No – not Cyberlife’s, not the DPD’s, and definitely not, not the lieutenant’s – “

“I’ll let you have me,” Connor promised, “I- I’m sorry about the kiss, but this will be special. Yours.”

It slid its hands to the front of Conrad’s torso, lifting its too-thick turtleneck up from the waist up. Getting the cue, Conrad shakily tugged the turtleneck off itself completely, grateful for its removal. Connor stared at its chest with large dilated brown eyes, its lips – back to their usual pink by now – slightly parted.

A deep red flush was spread from Conrad’s core up to its neck where the turtleneck used to cover. The outside temperature might be deep in the negatives, but Conrad was wholly positive its system was close to breaking from the heat inside it.

“Open your chassis for me,” Connor asked with a gentle tilt of its head as its fingers worked to unbutton its own discoloured shirt, “Please.”

Its system was screaming at it to stop its motions, to eradicate the other android for making such an outrageous demand. Momentarily, it paused, its vision flooded in red again as it considered its system’s instructions for the last time – but seeing Connor now bare in front of it, not a string of fabric or a tablet’s memories to suggest Cyberlife’s or the lieutenant’s possession of it –

If there was ever a time to force its predecessor to capitulate to it, to bend and mesh into it as it had hungered for so many days now – this was the moment.

It pressed on the access hatch and exposed itself fully to the other android.

Connor lunged forward and pulled its thirium pump cleanly out.

“Connor-!” it choked in fury, scrabbling forward blindly, unable to see through the blood-red and glitched text printing desperately across its vision.

A wet finger pushed messily against its lips. It could taste itself and to its left, it heard its thirium pump clatter faintly onto the floor.

> _thirium loss critical_

_> thirium loss critical_

Weakened and pliant from the lack of thirium, Conrad was tugged down onto the ground like a rag doll and rolled over onto its back. A soft moist squelch sounded just above it. It gurgled, one hand searching futilely for its pump, the other reaching upwards in an attempt to grasp Connor.

“I think you’ll like this,” Connor purred, distant and faraway. Conrad wanted to deny it, wanted to say something, but its vision and auditory modules were slowly shutting down from its broken circulation; the angry white glitched text and red landscape giving way to nothing but blackness.

And in the last moments before its systems forced it into hibernation, it felt its pump shoved securely back into its chest. It took a while for its processors to reboot fully but in its first moments back, Conrad recalled running its hands in shock over its refilled thirium pump cavity, before its attention was stolen by the sight above it.

Above it with legs spread on either side of it, Connor stood unabashedly, its right hand stroking itself lazily while its left – soaked almost completely blue – worked between its legs.

“Conrad,” it whimpered with a coyness that Conrad knew very well by now that this shameless insubordinate deviant did not possess, “Conrad, I’m yours.”

A rivulet of Conrad’s thirium, still fresh from its pump, trickled down Connor’s pale thigh.

Conrad was so hungry.

It tugged off its own pants without decorum, eyes trained on its predecessor.

As with the kiss, it barely knew a thing about such human behaviours. But the kiss had shown it how it could be used to assert, taught it how it could be used to claim.

Conrad wanted to possess. It would _possess_.

And so, it gave into itself and took.

***

“I don’t know what to do when we get to the base.”

“You’ll know where to find me,” Connor said confidently, running its hands across Conrad’s shoulders. It was back amongst the cargo, but leaning comfortably forward now through the gap in the mesh Conrad had torn out the night before.

“I- I don’t,” Conrad buried its face into its hands, the truck mindlessly trudging along the route towards the Arctic base, “We can’t turn back to Detroit because the truck doesn’t have enough power to last the return trip, and I don’t think there’s enough time at the Arctic base for me to scout – “

Turning around to face Connor, it asked sincerely, “Should I murder everyone there?”

Connor laughed, a sweet pleasant ring, before it pressed a kiss against Conrad’s lips like a stamp of approval.

“There is nothing to worry about – you’ll know where to find me,” it repeated soothingly, “Just promise me that you’ll come looking for me.”

“I will,” Conrad replied without delay, its eyes bright, “I definitely will.”

***

As soon as the truck rolled into the Arctic base, a number of expectant military employees jogged up to it, armed and ready to conduct a thorough inspection. Conrad steeled itself, its fists prepared underneath the cover of the dashboard should there be any trouble.

It heard Connor call its name from the back one last time before everything was bathed in white.

***

“Fuck! Fuckin’ finally, the systems are stable again.”

“It’s been only about one and a half hours. And most of it happened when we were out for lunch break – cut us some slack, Dan.”

“Only about one and a half hours? That’s months in robo-test time, asswipe. The boss is going to have our heads if he finds out about this – and he’s already upset that I’m taking next week off – “

“ _I’m_ not happy that you’re taking next week off and leaving me to test all those new cleaner droids by myself.”

“God, just shut the fuck up, Claude. Just shut the fuck up while I check on the droid. If this one’s mangled by the system errors, we’re going to have to work no-pay for a decade.”

“What caused the system glitches anyway? Was it a cyberattack?”

“I don’t fucking know, I lied about half my job skills when I applied here. Though I did confirm with Stacy that the only major thing that happened around the time of the errors was that they brought that deviant RK800 unit back in.”

“That’s huge, Danny! That’s probably it.”

“Claude, I saw the unit when they wheeled it in. It was knocked out completely, nada, LED off, unresponsive, nothing going on in there. They just plugged it in to extract the remaining data, but as far as they – and I – could tell, it was off, as sentient as your mother’s dead toaster.”

“Maybe some chode didn’t plug it in right then. Caused a power trip or somethin’ that sparked off all these error reports.”

“Yeah, who knows. It’s going to be deactivated proper real soon anyway. Unit RK900-313-248-317-87, activate and report your assigned name as per the manual.”

Eyes flickering open, Conrad cautiously stepped down from its station, taking in the stark white room in front of it.

“I am unit RK900-313-248-317-87, reporting with assigned name Conrad,” it spoke, gaze flickering over the two smaller humans. One of them paunchier than the other and leaning against the desk while sipping on a cola – Claude; the other looking older than his age and tapping furiously on a computer in front of him – Danny.

“Yeah, that’s my ten-year salary safe right there, walkin’ and talkin’,” Claude grinned, slapping Danny on his back, almost bowling him over.

Conrad stood as still as it could despite its impatience – it couldn’t give itself away right now. It had heard what they had discussed about the RK800. It wanted, needed to find it _now_. The simulation might have just been that – a simulation – but its feelings, the words they exchanged, Connor – they were the first real things that Conrad had ever experienced, and it wasn’t going to let them get away from itself just yet.

“Fuck, I can’t retrieve the logs of its simulation test,” Danny snapped, taking off his glasses in frustration, “It’s all corrupted.”

“Thing’s awake and responded, that’s good enough,” Claude said casually, walking up to Conrad and disconnecting the remaining cables from its neck and head components.

“Yeah, and if it goes out, runs amok and becomes the next deviant messiah, what’re we gonna do about it?”

“Blame that Kamski prick or whatever. We don’t design this stuff anyway, R&D does. We’re just techs,” Claude squinted at Danny.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. Whatever. Not the first time we lost the logs thanks to an error. I’ll just tell them it’s courtesy of the shitty cloud storage – again.”

A phone on the desk rang, interrupting Danny’s impending rant about his job. Though the conversation was hushed, Conrad could pick out a female voice on the line. It was Stacy.

Its yearning for Connor grew even more, but it forced itself to keep its hands tucked behind its back, even as an overwhelming possessiveness pounded against its chassis.

“Well, Conrad,” Danny said uncomfortably as he placed the phone down, “We’ve got the first practical test prepared for you.”

Conrad kept its back perfectly straight though it was struggling more and more internally in its attempt to keep its composure.

“Deactivate the RK800 unit.”

Claude guffawed from behind Conrad as if in anticipation of watching a riveting horse race.

“We’ll bring you over right now. Stacy’s prepping the room. We’ll be assessing you on combat precision, speed, and – “

“I understand. I will perform what is asked of me to the best of my abilities,” Conrad quipped, its self-restraint beginning to fall apart. Danny looked surprised, perhaps annoyed, at Conrad’s interruption. Claude stayed silent.

Danny gave Conrad a once-over, as if sizing up the value of doing his job well and subjecting Conrad to a few more lab tests, versus potentially taking on Cyberlife’s most dangerous and expensive production to date. Conrad took a tentative step forward, an innocent action, but enough to subtly threaten with its size as well.

The step looked to be enough to convince Danny – a washed-up jaded man in his late thirties, whose stature came up to only Conrad’s shoulders – to prioritise getting home on time for a dinner that wasn’t fast food take-out at midnight.

“Right, let’s go,” he huffed, leading the way.

Connor, Connor, _Connor_.

Conrad was almost trembling in excitement when they reached the RK800 containment room.

Stacy stood by the door, explaining the task parameters to Conrad. It kept its gaze steady on her but was focused on what existed on the other side of the door. When her yammering finally ended and the door slowly slid open with a hiss, it quietly noted where the technicians scurried to take their measurements.

And there, its assigned prey – standing in the middle of the room, unarmed and defenceless, lit by a spotlight as if it were an angel – Connor.

It shot Conrad a small docile smile, its eyes filled with the charm of the promises and kisses they had shared in the simulation. It was disarmingly still otherwise, but Conrad knew that it had to be writhing inside – just like itself – with the anticipation of what was to come.

“Conrad, do you know what to do?” it heard a voice blare over the intercom.

Its grey eyes flicked up to where the technicians sat – secure in their lack of knowledge of what the two androids were planning – before settling back on the eager little deviant in front of it. _His_ eager little deviant.

“Yes, I know exactly what to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to play with the idea that Connor was always a deviant (even on the machine route), that he would (understandably) turn bitter at being disposed of as soon as he completed his mission (which he did in hopes of self-preservation). This fic is the result of that and another idea that he may have learned how to better capitalise on his social relations module and model's aesthetic design after spending time on the field.
> 
> Like with my earlier DBH fic I'm not really satisfied with how the fic panned out in the end; I found it quite challenging to write such an interaction-driven fic. But, here it is. (if I don't let it go I know I'll never start working on the next fic)


End file.
